Christian Becomes an American
by Tarabridget87
Summary: The bizarre tale of Christian's hardships once he arrives in America and his struggles with accepting his Scottish roots. Please R&R! (Completed)


A/N: It might help you to understand my fic better if you know that Ewan McGregor (Christian) is originally from Scotland. That's why his accent sounds kinda mixed in the movie Moulin Rouge.  
  
  
  
  
  
CHRISTIAN BECOMES AN AMERICAN  
  
After Satine died, Christian decided it was time for a change. He wanted to turn over a new leaf. He decided to leave for America.  
  
Christian: (giant American flag waving behind him) "America - land of the free, home of the brave!"  
  
So, Christian wiped his tears away and packed his one outfit and typewriter into his suitcase.  
  
Christian: "I'm off to America, Toulouse!"  
  
Toulouse: "But, Cwistian! What will you do when you get there! You have no money, no pwace to sstay . . . "  
  
But, Christian refused to listen to the voice of reason.  
  
Christian: "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to become an American."  
  
Toulouse: "What? Cwistian, are you wistening?"  
  
Christian: (glancing at his non-existent watch) "Oh, dear Lord, I am going to miss my train."  
  
Toulouse looked at him suspiciously.  
  
Toulouse: "Twain? Cwistian, you can't afford toiwet paper. How did you get a twain ticket?"  
  
Christian: "Train ticket? HA! The James family is infamous for our ability to stow away."  
  
Toulouse rolled his eyes.  
  
Toulouse: "Whatever."  
  
And with that, Christian ran his self down stairs and to the train station. He stood outside, looking at his picture of Satine he stole from the Moulin Rouge dressing room.  
  
Christian: (weeping) "Oh, my dearly departed Satine."  
  
Then, he realized he was so lost in thought that the train was dearly departed as well. Christian stuffed Satine's picture in his breast pocket and ran for the train. He caught up with it and jumped on the side. He held on to a pole and leaned out the side, feeling the wind breeze through his hair.  
  
Christian: "Haha! I'm going to America, woo hoo! I'm king of the - "  
  
Christian smacked into a tree branch and fell off the train. He rolled down a hill until at last came to a stop.  
  
Christian: "Shit! I broke my motherf***ing nose!"  
  
Christian shoved cotton balls up his nostrils and continued on his way. He followed the train tracks all day and all night until he came to the next train station, where he waited to stow away again, this time a little more discreetly.  
  
It took about a day once on the train to get to the ferry dock. Christian said his last goodbyes to good ol' France and hopped on the ferry. He played a few rounds of Old Maid with a smelly drunk named Pedro, then happily fell asleep.  
  
He woke to see the giant Statue of Liberty before him. He made it to America!  
  
Christian got off the ferry and danced around in the rain, singing like a girl. A big burly man waddled over and knocked him flat on his face.  
  
Man: "Listen here! Maybe wherever you came from, you got away with prancing around like a fairy, but here in America we don't take that kind of crap. It's really offensive."  
  
Christian: "But . . . I've got the rhythm."  
  
Man: "I don't care what you got. Just do your weird ass dancing some place else."  
  
Christian hung his head low in shame and continued on his way.  
  
Christian walked into the public library and was delighted to see so many books all in one place. Perhaps, one day one of his books would be on those shelves. He approached the elderly librarian.  
  
Christian: "Hello, lass! I'd like a job here."  
  
The librarian looked him up and down and scowled.  
  
Librarian: "We don't hire Scots. Get out of here!"  
  
Christian: "No! I'm from London. I swear!"  
  
Librarian: "You can't hide that accent from me."  
  
Christian: "Accent? Huh?"  
  
So, Christian continued his search for a job. He was hired at a sewing factory. After 3 days, his fingers were sore and he couldn't help but cry.  
  
Christian: (sniffling) "Americans are so mean! What happened to the land of opportunity? WAAA!!!"  
  
Christian's boss spit at him.  
  
Boss: "Stop yer blubberin' and get back to work ya filthy Scot!"  
  
Christian: "And you! You've just been horrible to me! AND I AM NOT FROM SCOTLAND!"  
  
Boss: "Oh yeah? Then why do ya wear that kilt to work everyday?"  
  
Christian looked down to find that, he was in fact, wearing a plaid kilt. And it looked mighty beautiful draping on his slender, cleanly shaven legs. Christian giggled.  
  
Christian: "Oh yeah."  
  
The boss shook his head and yelled at him some more before moving on.  
  
At the end of the day, Christian was handed his 1 cent pay. He frowned staring down at his measly penny. He wasn't happy with the way things were turning out. He had been sleeping in a cardboard box and was always getting a nasty draft up his kilt.  
  
After work, instead of returning to his box, Christian decided it was time to get in touch with his Scottish roots - and make a little money on the side. He took his bagpipes and went to the Statue of Liberty. He liked to hang out there and play his pipes, setting out a hat marked "donations."  
  
Christian wanted to play something different tonight - a Scottish song. He played his little heart out, belting out the tune and swinging his hips round and round. It was the most beautiful Scottish song ever heard. Then, a giant creature emerged from the water.  
  
Christian: "Loch Nessie?!"  
  
The Loch Nessie roared as Christian stopped playing. Christian resumed his Scottish song and Loch Nessie boogied down in the water. Once the song was over, Loch Nessie clapped her flippers together in appreciation.  
  
Christian: (in a thicker Scottish accent than ever before) "Yarg, Nessie. I miss me homeland."  
  
Loch Nessie looked into Christian's sad eyes and decided to do him a favor for playing such a wonderful song. Loch Nessie scooped Christian up on top of her head and swam back out into the water.  
  
Christian: "Nessie, where we be goin'?"  
  
Loch Nessie clicked a sentence in sea monster language, but Christian, being so in tune with animals, understood her message:  
  
Loch Ness: "I be a takin' ye back to the glorious mother land, Scotland."  
  
A tear rolled down Christian's cheek. He was finally returning home. He pulled out his bagpipes again and played "Some Where Over the Rainbow" with a very Scottish spin. When he finished, he proclaimed:  
  
Christian: "There be no place like home, yarg! There be no place like home, yarg!"  
  
Suddenly, everything swirled into a hazy mess. He squinted to focus his vision and realized he was in his own room, laying on his own bed, wearing his own kilt.  
  
Christian: "Yaaaaarg! Where I be?"  
  
Christian's father leaned over him.  
  
Father: "Ye be home, Christian. Yeh were up on the roof when a bohemian storm blew by and yeh fell off. Got knocked out cold, yeh did."  
  
Christian: "But . . . what about Paris? And Moulin Rouge . . . and Satine?"  
  
Father: "Yarg, Christian, yer not makin' sense."  
  
Suddenly, everything became clear again. There was no Moulin Rouge, or Satine . . . it was all a dream.  
  
Christian: "I guess it be all a dream."  
  
Christian got out of bed and yawned. It was too bad it was all a dream, he thought he loved Satine. A voice interrupted his thoughts.  
  
Voice: "I pressed yer kilts for yeh, Mr. James."  
  
The voice belonged to a very beautiful girl with long, red, curly hair and beautiful blue eyes. She looked strangely familiar.  
  
Christian: "Who ye be?"  
  
Girl: "Yarg, forgive me, Mr. James. I be the new maid, Zatine."  
  
Yarg, the lesson of today's adventure? Home be where the heart be . . . THE END!!!  
  
FROM BEETLE: Thanks for reading this, guys! Please review!!!  
  
P.S. I'm sorry, Ewan! I love you!  
  
Okay, I just want to clarify this so there's no misunderstanding: I was in no way trying to diss Scottish people. Immigrants were discriminated against when they came to America in this time period, though I'm not exactly sure if that included Scottish immigrants . . . anyway, my point is that I was portraying the way immigrants were treated back then, not inputting my own views. And as for the kilts and such, I'm just kidding around, nothing is meant to be taken seriously. But, if anyone is at all offended by this, please e-mail me and I'll take it down immediately.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Moulin Rouge or any of the characters. Also, the line containing "I'm king of the world!" is from, of course, Titanic. I don't own The Wizard of Oz or the song "Some Where Over the Rainbow." I just own my story. 


End file.
